


good thing

by jeannedarc



Category: VIXX
Genre: M/M, fluffy garbage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 00:32:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11978361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeannedarc/pseuds/jeannedarc
Summary: five times sanghyuk called hakyeon beautiful, and one time hakyeon actually let him.





	good thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [toastyhyun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toastyhyun/gifts).



> who even...am i...anymore...  
> ahem, um, i never see 5x fics anymore? i guess they might have been a trend, once upon a time, but i love them conceptually a lot because they're basically just tiny character sketches that ultimately link together to make a story  
> wow, i talk a lot  
> anyway! um this is for riley (it's always for riley but this one especially) i love you very much and hope you like this fluffy mess

He doesn’t really mean to say it, the first time he does. They’re having breakfast, early morning, the windows open and the first-spring flowers’ scent wafting in on the breeze, the curtains fluttering, both their fingers wrapped around warm mugs of coffee to fight the last of winter’s chill as it drifts into the kitchen. The sun is just barely risen, and the way it streams in through the windows catches the angles of Hakyeon’s face so well that he almost loses his breath at the sight of him, all glowing and golden and gorgeous.

“You’re beautiful, hyung,” Sanghyuk blurts out, sucking in his bottom lip and biting down so hard his mouth tangs sharply, iron and rust and salt.

Hakyeon pauses just a second, as if considering, then shakes his head, lowers his eyes to the plate of buttered bread between them. He drums his fingertips against the rim of his coffee cup when he answers. “I’m not, Hyogi, but thank you.”

The frustration that Sanghyuk feels isn’t as strong as it is when, say, he’s losing at a videogame, or when he can’t nail choreo at practice the first, second or seventh time. It’s more like a pang of disappointment, the kind that dims the brightness of the sun just a little bit.

They go on like nothing ever happened, talking about practice, about seeing people later in the day, about the hell that is going to be waking up Wonshik when the time comes. But Sanghyuk remembers blood and caffeine and the sadness in Hakyeon’s smile, and it haunts him, ineffably.

\---

Summer means travel for them, and they spend a lot of time in hotels. Secretly, they both love sneaking out and doing things that aren’t becoming of them. They especially like going into the hotel swimming pools when they’re supposed to be closed (“No one ever locks the doors to these things,” says Hakyeon, every time, eyebrows raised like he’s surprised even though they’ve both long since grown used to this). Tonight just so happens to be one of those nights, everyone else sort of waving Hakyeon away in favour of sleep after the long flight.

In the morning, they’ll have appearances, sound checks, greetings with fans. But tonight is for them, just the two of them.

Sanghyuk’s always just that little bit more daring, strips down to his boxers soon as the door to the pool shuts behind them. Hakyeon takes his time getting undressed, moving as if to cover himself, shy and endearing. The light is on at the side of the pool, illuminating the water, making it this gorgeous shade of teal that doesn’t reveal the dirt and grime surely hidden inside it.

Not that Sanghyuk cares. He just dives right in.

Once he’s similarly disrobed, Hakyeon jumps in behind him, though a little more tentative than his dongsaeng, making a half effort at a cannonball, his hand over his mouth and nose. Sanghyuk watches his form, admiring, eyebrows knitting together a little bit in concentration.

When Hakyeon resurfaces he looks like a painting, something stunning and ethereal all at once, dark hair slick, clinging to his forehead, fringe painting a line over his brows. And not for the first time, Sanghyuk is utterly stricken, forces himself to tread water.

They do what they do, get into splash fights, talk about the flight, about dreams they’ve had recently and books Hakyeon has read and games Sanghyuk has been playing. And eventually, when talk isn’t enough to contain their collective energy, they compete, taking turns launching themselves into the water, Hakyeon only making a vague attempt at pointing out the ‘no diving’ sign painted on the pool’s lip.

Eventually they get tired. They take to clinging to the edges with limp grips, sigh a lot, try and convince each other that they should go upstairs, dry off, maybe go to bed.

It’s just a moment, but Hakyeon lifts his head from staring over the pool ledge, turning to look Sanghyuk right in his eyes and tell him, in that authoritative way of his, that it’s time to go. But there’s that flicker of determination in his eyes that nearly knocks Sanghyuk right back into the water.

“You’re so beautiful, Hakyeon hyung,” he breathes lazily, but this time he doesn’t give Hakyeon the space in which to deny it. He just hoists himself out of the pool, grabs his towel, waits, not wanting Hakyeon to have to go up to their rooms alone.

When Hakyeon rejoins him, towel slung over his shoulders, clothes all balled up between his still-dripping hangs, he’s wearing that sad smile, the one he reserves for people who are wrong. And again, it haunts Sanghyuk, but the resentment he feels at the silent accusation he faces is much stronger this time.

\---

Sanghyuk knows he doesn’t like to admit it, but Hakyeon’s so susceptible to the cold that it scares him sometimes. There’s a lot of things he doesn’t like to admit, but this one most of all. He has to be strong, he says, has to set a good example, has to be the wall behind which his members can hide. Bullshit, Sanghyuk thinks bitterly, guarding Hakyeon from the wind just by virtue of his stature as they make their way into a recording studio.

Hakyeon’s teeth are chattering a little as he rubs at his elbows, trying to force warmth into his own bones. Sanghyuk, for his part, heaves a sigh, shrugs out of the oversized hoodie he’s been wearing and offers it to his hyung, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

There’s a moment where it almost looks like Sanghyuk will have to insist, will have to throw a fit just for Hakyeon to cover up, but then Hakyeon accepts it, head bowed slightly, and slips his thin arms into the paws of Sanghyuk’s sweater.

Sanghyuk lights up, tugs at the sleeves, covers up Hakyeon’s hands and snuggles in close on the tiny couch on which they’re expected to sit.

He’s so lovely like this, so well-swathed and taken care of, and he keeps lifting the neckline of Sanghyuk’s hoodie to his nose and breathing it in. “You smell good, Hyogi,” he says quietly, eyes closing.

“You’re biased,” Sanghyuk scoffs, albeit good-naturedly, scooting in even closer until their knees brush and their elbows touch and Hakyeon can, if he wants, rest his head on Sanghyuk’s shoulder.

He doesn’t, but that’s fine. Sanghyuk is getting used to it, even if he doesn’t want to.

They stay like this, huddled together, and Sanghyuk suspects it’s more than his clothes that are being used for warmth when Hakyeon’s hand drops, pinky threading around Sanghyuk’s and squeezing gently.

“You look beautiful in my clothes, you know,” Sanghyuk says, returning that squeeze immediately, eyes closing as if he’s ready for a nap. Maybe, he thinks, maybe if he pretends to fall asleep, Hakyeon won’t deny him this time.

“You look beautiful in your clothes,” Hakyeon responds, almost blank, and Sanghyuk doesn’t need to be able to see his face to know that Hakyeon is staring straight ahead, wearing that same smile he always does.

It’s another drop in a big bucket of frustrations when it comes to Hakyeon, but this one always hurts the worst. Sanghyuk really does pretend to sleep, now, in an effort to save himself from having to say anything he might potentially regret.

\---

Neither of them are huge fans of Christmas, but that doesn’t mean they don’t try. In fact, though he doesn’t like to admit it, Hakyeon tries really, really hard to make everyone feel special during the holidays, as it’s not often they get the time to see the people they’d like to see most. It’s because of that that Sanghyuk tries his best, too, though his efforts pale in comparison to that of his leader’s.

For example, one day not long before the 25th, Hakyeon sneaks out of practice early, and everyone notices but no one says anything, knows that he’s the most tired of them all and might need a little bit of rest, that he might not be feeling well, they’ll check on him later and continue on with their work. Sanghyuk isn’t buying that for a half-second, though he doesn’t want to make a big production of leaving when their leader’s also left them. That doesn’t mean he’s not the first one out the door when it’s time to head home, that he isn’t the first one back in the dorm.

There’s Hakyeon, of course, looking like a homemaker with his hair tied up, apple-style, and his sleeves rolled up and strands of twinkling lights wound between his fingers. He’s only halfway done doing whatever he’s doing, and he’d obviously been focused before, because when Sanghyuk creeps up behind him and wraps strong arms around his middle, Hakyeon jolts, turns, looks up, pouting indignantly.

“It’s not finished,” he explains, as if that means anything. “You’re not supposed to see it until it’s finished.”

“But you can’t reach,” Sanghyuk points out, pursing his lips in an attempt to hide a grin, pointing over Hakyeon’s shoulder to a spot in the corner where a TV and a couch intersect, perpendicular, making the place where the wall meets the ceiling almost inaccessible to most normal-sized people.

“I can reach,” Hakyeon responds, stout, looking elsewhere. A little bead of sweat is trapped at his brow, as if he’d been exerting himself, and Sanghyuk absolutely _has_ to laugh at that. “What? I can. I just hadn’t gotten there yet.”

“And what were you gonna do, hyung? Do every other place in the house and hope no one noticed?” He might sound a little mean, but Sanghyuk is teasing, so amused that his cheeks are pinked at the thought. “Let me help you, then.”

So there they are, hanging Christmas lights, the house smelling like apple cinnamon and fresh-baked cookies the likes of which all of them are going to be afraid to eat later, cracking little jokes at each other.

They string up the rest of the house, then work on the little corner that Hakyeon had found inaccessible, crisscrossing strands of lights making the shape of a tree (they can’t have a real one, unfortunately, something that Hakyeon’s been miffed about for weeks, not that he’s said anything aloud). When it comes to tacking up the top of the lights Sanghyuk holds Hakyeon by the waist, lifts him up, lets him do the work himself as he’s wanted to do probably for ages since the winter season rolled around. 

He finishes quickly, his deft hands aiding him greatly, and turns around in Sanghyuk’s arms when he’s done. It’s only then that he loses his sense of equilibrium, gently falling into Sanghyuk, hands splayed over his chest. The soft white of the lights behind them both catch the planes and angles of Hakyeon’s face, and he just stays there, gazing up at Sanghyuk, lips forming a silent thanks.

“You look so gorgeous right now,” Sanghyuk murmurs, pulling him close.

Hakyeon rolls his eyes, stands on tiptoe, dusts a little kiss to the corner of Sanghyuk’s mouth. “Stop that. Everyone will be home soon.”

\---

The New Year is the one holiday that they make a point of spending together, this year anyhow. Usually they see their families, and usually they’d both be more than happy to do that. But...things have changed, in the past year, and they‘d prefer to be together. So they do, making their way to the festival downtown, intent on watching the fireworks. They’re linked at the elbows, masks up, bumping hips and shoulders.Their way is lit by streetlamps, by children running about excitedly with glow necklaces, by the lights streaming into the streets from various bars and clubs that invite them in.

Hakyeon keeps looking over his shoulder, even though no one has come up to them thus far, and Sanghyuk keeps tugging at the hem of Hakyeon’s jacket to bring him back into the present. “You know it’s a holiday, right? We’re safe now.” It’s probably not true, but he can see the worry gradually increasing in what he can see of Hakyeon’s face.

“You say that, but…” Hakyeon’s voice is gentle, but chiding, a little doubtful. “Let’s get lost in the crowd, then?”

The more people that assuage them from the outside, however inadvertently, the more comfortable Sanghyuk becomes. The fireworks shows begin, slow at first, a burst here and there, marking the air with bright flashes of colour and the wafting scent of gunpowder. The crowds _ooh_ and _aah_ appropriately. The fiery smell in the air mingles with that of street food, and they both pause a moment in their walk to breathe in deeply, exhaling cold.

Sanghyuk lowers his mask beneath his chin as they continue moving, glancing around, feeling the soft wind of winter brush his cheeks, colouring them appropriately. It takes a few moments, but Hakyeon follows suit, and he’s so lovely when the cold makes him flush. Sanghyuk doesn’t say anything, though he sorely wants to, and bites down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself quiet.

They talk about what they want from this year, the promises they’ve made themselves and what they’ve asked for, and eventually it cycles around to what they want of each other, of this newfound relationship they’ve been working on for what feels an entire lifetime. Hakyeon smiles in that endearing way of his, the one that makes Sanghyuk’s heart ping, and it strikes him again what to say. He already knows what to ask for, but he hesitates, lets Hakyeon speak first.

“I want you to know how much I love you,” Hakyeon says, careful, voice kept low. “And I want you to understand that as long as we’ve been together, I’ve treasured you ten times that long. And I want you to know that I’ll always care for you, even if I’m busy, even if I’m exhausted, even if anything bad happens to either of us… To take care of you is a pleasure and an honour, Hyogi. Don’t forget that.”

“That’s...hyung, that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Sanghyuk says, and if he’s tearing up a little, it’s because of the cold, he’ll swear it up and down. He inhales shakily, stopping them both in their tracks, staring at the hours-old snow lining the ground between their feet. “I want...I want you to feel loved, and respected, and cared for, and protected. I want to watch out for you, even when we both know you can watch out for yourself. I want you to not feel like you have to worry about me extra just because we’re...whatever we are. I want to be there for you in times when you think you have to be there for everyone else.”

He pauses again, and says, “And, um... I want you to understand that I have always, always thought you are the most beautiful person.”

There’s a quiet between them, seconded by the hushed admiration of the crowd as a firework bursts out overhead.

Hakyeon smiles. It’s still just a little bit off, but it’s closer to the mark. “Let’s get something to eat, okay?” he asks, his face turning into that parental mask he usually wears in front of everyone. “You’ll get sick if you don’t.”

\---

Eventually Sanghyuk figures out the trick, of course, because he tries it every which way and doesn’t give up. The light in Hakyeon’s eyes, the one saved for only when he’s really, honestly, truly happy gives Sanghyuk the determination he needs.

It’s three in the morning. Spring is starting to dawn anew. Everyone else has fallen asleep. Sanghyuk and Hakyeon are lying in bed, Hakyeon’s legs around Sanghyuk’s waist, keeping him close as they meet at the mouths, over and over and over again. Sanghyuk drinks in Hakyeon’s warmth as if he’s never been held before, hands wandering where they can reach given their entanglement, skimming over bare ribs, along the slope of Hakyeon’s back, stopping just short of his ass.

They part, breathing heavy, and Sanghyuk buries his face in the curve of Hakyeon’s elegant neck, sucking softly, just a tease of a mark since they’ve already agreed on avoiding the real thing -- above the collar, anyhow.

He nips at the ridge of Hakyeon’s collarbone, tongue following where his lips move, and Hakyeon whines softly, arching forward, asking silently for more, too proud to beg just yet.

“You’re so beautiful, hyung,” says Sanghyuk, soft, muffled by a mouthful of sweet, salty skin.

“M’not,” Hakyeon whimpers, arms snaking around Sanghyuk’s back just to grip him by the shoulderblades, his touch burning hot and increasing in temperature as they rock together.

It’s too fucking much, and Sanghyuk swears up and down after the fact that he heard something inside him snap.

Sanghyuk stops, moves without even a second thought, rolling on top of Hakyeon, not shifting their position so much as gaining advantage. He pins his hyung down by the shoulders, thumbs over the hollows of his collarbones. “You have to stop doing that,” he insists, peering down at Hakyeon with a gaze so intense Hakyeon visibly wilts beneath it. “You’re my boyfriend, and I’m about to make you feel very very good, and you keep telling me you’re not pretty, and you’ve been doing it forever and a half, and why are you doing that?”

“Because I’m n--”

Sanghyuk silences Hakyeon with a kiss, a quick one, punctuated with a harsh bite into Hakyeon’s bottom lip. “No more,” he says firmly. “From now on when I tell you you’re pretty, you have to say it back.”

Hakyeon pushes up onto one elbow, not one to be intimidated into giving in. “Or else what?” he asks, amusement curling the corners of his question until it’s almost not a question anymore, more a gleeful exclamation.

“Or else I won’t touch you. We’ll go to sleep.”

Scandalised, Hakyeon gasps, wraps his free hand around the nape of Sanghyuk’s neck. “Yes sir, absolutely sir,” he agrees, and though it’s playful, Sanghyuk is more than ready to show him how serious the situation is.

They kiss some more, Hakyeon using the leverage of being caught beneath Sanghyuk’s weight and legs around his waist to rock up against him. Sanghyuk busies himself leaving little hints of hickeys along the expanse of Hakyeon’s slim chest, watching the colour red bloom across the glow of his skin.

“You’re beautiful, Hakyeon hyung,” says Sanghyuk, lifting just his eyes to see Hakyeon’s reaction.

He gets none save a little groan, a tightening of fingers at the base of his spine, and he stops, lips poised over one nipple. “Say it,” he reminds less than gently, going stock-still even as Hakyeon presses up into him, pleading more.

“I’m beautiful,” he repeats, voice a quavering ghost, and is rewarded handsomely when Sanghyuk takes him by one hip, holds him still and ruts into him ferocity matched only by enthusiasm.

“Say it again,” he urges, voice a low grumble edged with arousal. 

“I’m...Hyogi, please, don’t…”

“Say it again.”

“I’m beautiful,” says Hakyeon, and Sanghyuk does it again with a tautly controlled roll of his hips, lips closing over Hakyeon’s nipple and sucking at it.

Finally, he thinks, the idea distant, foggy, hazed over by the need he suddenly has to make this work as long as he can. A formula that works.

Later, when Hakyeon is recovering, Sanghyuk stroking his hair as the last remnants of aftershock work their way through Hakyeon’s shaking frame, they huddle together, as they did once upon a time on a too-small couch. Their bed isn’t as big as it needs to be to hold the both of them comfortably, so Hakyeon makes a big show of crawling on top of Sanghyuk, letting himself be cradled, letting himself be shown all the affection Sanghyuk thinks he deserves.

“You were so good, hyung,” Sanghyuk whispers, lips brushing the shell of Hakyeon’s ear as Hakyeon buries his burning face in the curve of Sanghyuk’s shoulder. “You’re so pretty when you cum for me.”

“Thank you, baby,” Hakyeon sighs, whatever residual tension he still had eking from him so that he settles atop Sanghyuk. “Thank you.”

Satisfied, Sanghyuk presses a kiss to Hakyeon’s crown, holds him close, absorbs how small Hakyeon feels in his arms. They fall asleep like this, but not before Sanghyuk realises that this is the best part of any day or night -- when he can finally tell his hyung how gorgeous he is without being told ‘no’.

A smile curls at his mouth. He has the sweetest dreams he’s ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> i guess if you really really wanted to you could always follow me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/takoyaken) and harass me (gently, as i am a Soft Egg) to write more


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